Do I Have The Guts To Say
by Truthful Blasphemy
Summary: I loved Spot. But apparently that just wasn't enough for him.


**Yay for watching Newsies with my friends Sweet Revenge and Firefly Conlon! (Check her page out)**

**I love both My Chemical Romance and Newsies and thought...wow I need to write about both at once! Here we go. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own either MCR or Newsies. **

**Please listen to the song "I Don't Love You" before or after reading this.**

**(Also: Please excuse any misspellings and/or screw ups with grammar. I wrote and uploaded without editing it in between...)**

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><p>I leaned against the door frame, my shoulders shaking from the sobs wracking my body. Tears made thin tracks down my dirty face, forming muddy streaks down to my chin. I had watched him walk away, his gold cane clicking against the New York cobblestones. The words he had shouted at me still echoed painfully in my mind, "Get yoah things and get out while you can." It had been two years since he'd asked me to be his girl, and I had never been unfaithful, never stopped loving him. But Spot Conlon wasn't the kind of man who stayed with one person too long. The position of Queen was not constant. Everyone said, "You shouldn't fall too hard, the day will come when he'll be over you and want something new."<p>

I ignored their good advice. I fell deeper and harder for the boy who had saved me from the streets of New York. It wasn't just his looks, but his sarcastic wit and dark charisma that drew me in. His arms were pure lean muscle, and held me close at night when I was scared of the violent Brooklyn streets. But now those arms were gone from around me, and I was lost in the world. Manhattan wouldn't take me in because they were too close to Brooklyn and the truce was fragile. Taking in Spot's rejected girl would do damage to their side of the bargain.

So I did what I was expected to do. I packed up all my things in an old carpet bag, tucked my brown hair up under a cabby cap, and shoved my slingshot into my pocket. New York City was a big place, and I was free to go anywhere I wanted, even though all I wanted was to be near Spot again. Maybe he'd have a change of heart. But I doubted even that.

"Maybe when they knock you down and out, that's where you oughta stay," I smiled sadly to myself as I whispered. I walked out the door of the Brooklyn Newsboys Lodging House with my chin high and a tear in my eye.

ONE WEEK LATER

"Please…stop," I begged. Another blow was delivered to my abdomen. "Please."

"Didn't I already tell youse ta shut up?" the bulky man sneered at me. I ducked out of the way of his meaty fist. He smelled like garbage mixed with ink and liquor. I had been sleeping on a park bench late at night when the horrible man had ripped me off of it and threw me against a wall. He was drunk, angry, and bigger than I was capable of defending myself against. I didn't stand a chance as he pummeled me with merciless fists. "Youse is a good-foah-nothin' goil what don't know nothin'."

"Is she?" came a challenging voice from the mouth of the alleyway. I pleaded with the boy's silhouetted figure, my eyes wide and scared. I was pinned to the wall by the disgusting one. "I demand that you release her!"

"Nah," the ugly one smashed me in the stomach with his knee. I grunted in pure, unashamed agony. He released my arms, letting me crumple to a small heap on the dirty ground. "She's fun to hit. She don't struggle too much."

"Help…" my voice was so weak; I barely recognized it as my own.

The silhouette of the boy moved towards us, and I saw the glint of a knife in his hand. My attacker obviously didn't, because he tried to hit the smaller male. My mystery rescuer sliced at the man, a deep gash forming on his forearm, blood seeping into his torn sleeve. My attacker cried out in pain and dashed from the alley, droplets of crimson falling onto the pavement behind him. The boy who had just recently saved my life turned to me, bending down. He lifted me up into his arms bridal-style and I fell into unconsciousness.

When I woke up, I was lying in a hard bed. Above me was the familiar sight of a worn wooden bunk and in a seat by my bed was a boy no older than eighteen. He had blond-brown hair styled much like Spot's had been, and deep chocolate brown eyes that were gazing at me intently. "Thank you," I said without further explanation. My voice sounded hoarse and sickly. He smiled, moving a stray hair from my blue eyes. I blushed at his actions.

"You're welcome," he smiled. His teeth were slightly crooked, but I liked the way they looked. They fit him perfectly. "You are also welcome to the Queens Newsboys Lodging House."

"You're a newsie too?" I asked. He chuckled.

"No, I just live in the lodging house. Of _course _I'm a newsie. But not just any newsie, I'm Rookie, the leader of Queens."

I knew Rookie's name from sitting in on countless territory negotiations with Spot. Thinking of Spot Conlon made my heart ache and my stomach twist into uncomfortable knots. I hated the name, but I loved the boy with the blue eyes. He had captured my heart and even after spurning me, refused to let it be free again.

"I'm Starlight," I introduced. Rookie started in his seat, his eyes widening and his hands beginning to twist nervously.

"Spot's girl?" he asked. I noticed that his New York accent was barely there, if even existent.

"I used to be Spot's girl," I sighed, "But he let me loose last week. I've been on my own ever since."

"He's a rascal, letting a girl go and not taking care of her. I wondered why no one was defending you," Rookie sighed. "It's gonna get him hurt someday, probably by someone he loves."

THREE WEEKS LATER

Rookie had tended to my many wounds and healed me well, including my broken heart. He re-taught me how to love, since my trust had been shattered into thousands of pieces by Spot. Slowly, after weeks of selling side-by-side and eating lunch together, the inevitable had happened. I had fallen for Rookie. It was a shared feeling, and we kissed for the first time during an August rain shower. I remember laughing as he lifted me up and spun me around.

We were going to Medda's tonight, to see a show with Jack Kelley. I knew Jack, and he was surprised that I was with Rookie now. We sauntered up to the front doors, my hand in Rookie's. I was wearing a dress, something I hadn't done in awhile. The ruffles on the collar itched terribly, but I bore it with a smile. I loved Rookie, and he was well worth it. "My dear," he opened the door for me with a shallow bow. I laughed and walked in, waiting for him to catch back up to my short paces. Medda had reserved the balcony for some newsie leaders and their dates, so I sat there next to Rookie.

The palms of my hands were sweating and I was shaking slightly. "Are you cold?" Rookie asked, wrapping his arm around my shoulders comfortingly.

"No," I said softly, my gaze drifting over the familiar faces. "I'm just nervous that Spot'll be here."

"Forget him," Rookie beamed. "You're with me now."

"You're right, I'm being stupid," I giggled. I waved to Jack. "Hey Cowboy!"

"Hey Starlight," he smiled. "It's nice to see youse again in Manhattan. Where ya been?"

"Queens," Rookie and I answered together, smiling at each other like idiots. Jack shrugged and leaned back in his seat.

"We missed ya, Spot especially."

"Well that's too bad," I frowned, ignoring his Spot comment. "I'll visit you and the boys soon."

"Okay," Jack agreed as the lights went down, a signal that the show was about to begin. We quieted and turned our gaze towards the red curtain as it slowly parted to reveal Medda Larkson (the Swedish meadow lark) in a bright red dress to match her copper curls.

I enjoyed myself for the first time in a long time, laughing along with anyone else and smiling till my cheeks hurt during the slapstick comedy show. I hummed along with a few familiar songs sung by Medda and tapped my feet in rhythm with some of my favorite dance acts. Rookie seemed ecstatic at the whole affair, and whooped with glee like a small child would whenever he particularly liked something. Sometimes he would lean over and whisper, "Did you see that?" and I would nod. He clapped loudly after a particular comedy piece and I laughed again, making him turn to me. We leaned forward and kissed gently, smiling the whole time.

"I love you," I sighed. It was the first time either of us had admitted it to the other.

"I love you too," he said, beaming like the sun on a summer day.

After the show we began walking out together, giggling like school children, when someone tapped on my shoulder. I turned to face two piercing blue eyes, Spot's eyes. "What do you want?" I asked sharply. The night had been going spectacularly, and then _he _showed up right at the end. Spot took two steps back and bowed his head a little, keeping his eyes locked with mine. I glared as best I could, having still not forgiven him for his last misendeavor.

"I'm sahrry that Ise was a jerk tah ya, Star. Would youse forgive me?" he asked, looking up at me with a pleading gleam in his eyes, "I love youse and I wants you tah be my goil again. So will ya come back tah Brooklyn wheah youse belong?"

"I'm sorry Spot," I said, smiling sadly at him. I turned towards Rookie and we headed for the door. I locked our fingers casually, knowing that Spot was watching. I paused, just before leaving the building, and looked back at the man that broke my heart for the first time. He was my first love, my original protector, and the person I used to trust everything to. He broke me, shattered me, and fed me to the wolves. He banned me from so many of my friends, and left me bleeding and alone.

I looked up at Rookie, the boy who had healed my broken bones and broken heart. I took a last look at Spot Conlon, King of Brooklyn, and gave him the explanation I owed him. "I don't love you like I loved you yesterday."


End file.
